Судья парада гордости в Филадельфии Джим О'Тул умер после долгой болезни

Jim O’Toole — who served as chief judge for the Philadelphia Pride Parade for 12 years — died following a long illness in July. He was 71. O’Toole was not a Philadelphia native. He was born in New York and attended Columbia University as a math major planning to go pre-med but switched gears after developing epilepsy. He came to Philly to study at the University of Pennsylvania before working for the city in the Philadelphia Department of Commerce and the Division of Housing and Community Development. During his time in city leadership, O’Toole helped Franny Price — who was organizing Pride events at the time through Philly Pride Presents — to apply for a grant that would be allocated to Pride Day and OutFest advertisements. The pair stayed in touch, which led Price to later ask O’Toole to join the judge’s table at the annual Pride parade. During his first year as a volunteer judge, he stayed to tally up the votes and figure out the winners of about 20 prizes that Philly Pride Presents used to bestow upon marchers and parade entrants — including Gayest in the Parade and Best Statement plus recognitions for businesses, bars, performances, visitors and more. Other volunteers typically followed the crowd as it dispersed, often heading to the Penn’s Landing festival or Gayborhood bars. But O’Toole stayed back — sometimes for hours, ensuring votes were counted correctly. No one knew the winners until he showed up to the festival’s main stage with an announcement. When it was decided that he should become Chief Judge, O’Toole embraced the role and took it seriously, sharing ideas and making improvements. He formalized the judging process with guidelines and objective rating criteria, organized packets and announcement materials, and made sure little details — like pens — weren’t overlooked. Flower ribbons were pinned to designated judges, while O’Toole oversaw the entire judging operation. Although the parade no longer exists in this format, Price said the team had considered honoring O’Toole as a grand marshal before it ended because many of its other organizers respected and appreciated his commitment. “He worked and put in a lot of time on that,” said Jim King, his longtime partner. “In Philly, we’ve got Mummer blood in us,” Price said. “So our Pride parade was not like other cities. We had performances and string bands just like the Mummers who would be judged. They were very competitive.” During the last Pride parade, Philly Pride Presents welcomed 141 groups to march in the televised parade — so this was a big job. Judges were only permitted to take three and a half minutes with each group to ensure fairness. It was his job to both be thorough and keep the line moving. “You could depend on people like Jim,” Price said — adding that she knew he had his responsibilities under control, which made it easier for her to focus on other aspects of the day. “You never had to worry.” The parade was a rain-or-shine event. Price recalled that one year, the parade began with good weather but was disrupted by a torrential downpour. Price rounded the corner as a guide for the parade’s biggest float and headed toward the reviewing stand where O’Toole was stationed. Rather than quickly rush away like the rest of the parade’s volunteers, O’Toole was one of three judges who crouched below a table to continue judging entrants as they passed by. When the rain refused to let up, he emerged from under his cover without an umbrella to protect him or his leather gear and gathered supplies in an attempt to save whatever he could. But the voting sheets were destroyed, and each of the entrants needed to be rejudged. O’Toole refused to give up. The rain stopped hours later, and the winners celebrated at the festival. “This is a real trooper,” Price said. “We lucked out with him.” O’Toole didn’t just support the LGBTQ+ community during Pride events. He was a present fixture all year long, especially because of his work for the city — where he developed grant and loan programs for small businesses and fueled job creation. “If you didn’t know how to write a grant, he would help you because he wanted you to get approved,” added Price. “That’s what was wonderful about Jim. He had a job to do — and he was doing it legit — but if he knew you needed help, he helped.” “He was a good guy,” she continued. “He helped so many people in our community that way.” Price underlined that she believes people often don’t realize what LGBTQ+ community people do for the community as a whole or the sacrifices they make and hardships they deal with along the way. O’Toole once faced a barrage of harassing phone calls from an anti-LGBTQ+ advocacy group who berated him for supposedly funneling taxpayer money to LGBTQ+ causes. Price scoffed at the thought — underlining that O’Toole was just part of a system that was rightfully beginning to support the community and other marginalized communities more. Friends described O’Toole as sincere, helpful and thoughtful. He had an opinionated and witty, dry humor but was caring and genuine. He previously told PGN that he thought of himself as shy — but others would not agree. O’Toole and King liked to spend time at The Bike Stop in their younger years — where O’Toole was sometimes approached for advice and mentorship. He often coached community members through money issues. “In those days, the bars were sort of the community,” he said. The couple met when King applied to a job in the Department of Commerce in 1989 and got to know each other during a Christmas party. A year later, they celebrated their commitment with a honeymoon in Europe — traveling to Amsterdam and Berlin. The pair enjoyed shopping and watching movies together. The Bike Stop used to play classic and vintage movies on Saturday afternoons, and O’Toole was sometimes able to pick the titles. At home, they opted for “Star Trek” instead. They also enjoyed shopping. King said O’Toole was often on the lookout for a bargain — and this stayed true as a househunter. He thinks they must have considered about 300 homes before making a decision. O’Toole had a system for the process and developed plans for renovations, which he continued over many years — although the pair never managed to get the historic fireplaces working. He had simple and frugal taste, aiming to create a space that didn’t feel extravagant or flashy but instead felt down to earth and easy to live in. King, who still lives in their shared home, said O’Toole was surely taken too soon. He hopes to host a public celebration of life but hasn’t decided on the details yet.